The tobacconist was not in the habit of going to meet things. He usually waited for them to come to him. But on this particular evening of September in a year which it is not expedient3 to name, he seemed to be looking out into the street in order that he might not be taken by surprise in the event of an arrival. Moreover he mopped his vast forehead at unnecessarily frequent intervals, just as one may note a snuff-taker have recourse to that solace4 more frequently when he is agitated5 than when a warm calm reigns6 within his breast.
“So quiet—so quiet,” he muttered, “in our little street—and in the others—who knows? It would appear that they have their shutters7 lowered there.”
He listened intently, but there was no sound except the clatter8 of an occasional cart or the distant whistle of a Seine steamer.
Then the tobacconist returned to the perusal9 of the Petit Journal. Before he had skimmed over many lines, he looked up sharply and drew aside the red curtain. Yes! It was some one at last. The footsteps were hurried and yet hesitating—the gait of a person not knowing his whereabouts. And yet the man who entered the shop a moment later was evidently the same who had come to the citizen Jacquetot when last we met him.
“Ah!” exclaimed the tobacconist. “It is you!”
“No,” replied the other. “It is not. I am not the citizen...Morot—I think you call it.”
“But, yes!” exclaimed the fat man in amazement10. “You are that citizen, and you are also the Vicomte d'Audierne.”
The new-comer was looking round him curiously11; he stepped towards the curtained door, and turned the handle.
“I am,” he said, “his brother. We are twins. There is a resemblance. Is this the room? Yes!”
“Yes, monsieur. It is! But never was there such a resemblance.”
The tobacconist mopped his head breathlessly.
“Go,” said the other, “and get a mattress12. Bring it and lay it on this table. My brother is wounded. He has been hit.”
Jacquetot rose laboriously13 from his seat. He knew now that this was not the Vicomte d'Audierne. This man's method was quite different. He spoke14 with a quiet air of command, not doubting that his orders would be obeyed. He was obviously not in the habit of dealing15 with the People. The Vicomte d'Audierne had a different manner of speaking to different people—this man, who resembled him so strangely, gave his orders without heeding16 the reception of them.
The tobacconist was essentially17 a man of peace. He passed out of a small door in the corner of the shop, obeying without a murmur18, and leaving the new-comer alone.
A moment later the sound of wheels awoke the peaceful stillness of the Rue St. Gingolphe. The vehicle stopped, and at the same instant the man passed through the little curtained doorway19 into the room at the back of the shop, closing the door after him.
The gas was turned very low, and in the semi-darkness he stood quite still, waiting. He had not long to wait; he had scarcely closed the door when it was opened again, and some one entered rapidly, closing it behind him. Then the first comer raised his arm and turned up the gas.
Across the little table, in the sudden flood of light, two men stood looking at each other curiously. They were so startlingly alike, in height and carriage and every feature, that there was something weird20 and unpleasant in their action—in their silence.
“Ah!” said the last comer. “It is thou. I almost fired!”
And he threw down on the table a small revolver.
“Why have you done this?” continued the Vicomte d'Audierne. “I thought we agreed sixteen years ago that the world was big enough to contain us both without meeting, if we exercised a little care.”
“She is dead,” replied the brother. “She died two years ago—the wife of Prangius—what does it matter now?”
“I know that—but why did you come?”
“I was ordered to Paris by the General. I was near you at the barricade21, and I heard the bullet hit you. Where is it?”
The Vicomte looked down at his hand, which was pressed to his breast; the light of the gas flickered22, and gleamed on his spectacles as he did so.
“In my chest,” he replied. “I am simply dripping with blood. It has trickled23 down my legs into my boots. Very hot at first—and then very cold.”
The other looked at him curiously, and across his velvety24 eyes there passed that strange contraction25 which has been noted26 in the glance of the Vicomte d'Audierne.
“I have sent for a mattress,” he said. “That bullet must come out. A doctor is following me; he will be here on the instant.”
“One of your Jesuits?”
“Yes—one of my Jesuits.”
The Vicomte d'Audierne smiled and winced27. He staggered a little, and clutched at the back of a chair. The other watched him without emotion.
“Why do you not sit down?” he suggested coldly. “There are none of your—People—here to be impressed.”
Again the Vicomte smiled.
“Yes,” he said smoothly28, “we work on different lines, do we not? I wonder which of us has dirtied his hands the most. Which of the two—the two fools who quarrelled about a woman. Ha? And she married a third—a dolt29. Thus are they made—these women!”
“And yet,” said the Jesuit, “you have not forgotten.”
The Vicomte looked up slowly. It seemed that his eyelids30 were heavy, requiring an effort to lift them.
“I do not like to hear the rooks call—that is all,” he said.
The other turned away his soft, slow glance, the glance that had failed to overcome Christian31 Vellacott's quiet defiance—
“Nor I,” he said. “It makes one remember.”
There was a short silence, and then the Jesuit spoke—sharply and suddenly.
“Sit down, you fool!” he said. “You are fainting.”
The Vicomte obeyed, and at the same moment the door opened and the tobacconist appeared, pushing before him a mattress.
The Jesuit laid aside his hat, revealing the tonsure32 gleaming whitely amidst his jetty hair, and helped to lay the mattress upon the table. Then the two men, the Provincial33 and the tobacconist of the Rue St. Gingolphe, lifted the wounded aristocrat34 gently and placed him upon the improvised35 bed. True to his blood, the Vicomte d'Audierne uttered no sound of agony, but as his brother began to unbutton the butcher's blouse in which he was disguised he fainted quietly. Presently the doctor arrived. He was quite a young man, with shifting grey eyes, and he saluted36 the Provincial with a nervous obsequity which was unpleasant to look upon. The deftness37 with which he completed the task of laying bare the wound was notable. His fingers were too clever to be quite honest. When, however, he was face to face with the little blue-rimmed orifice that disfigured the Vicomte's muscular chest, the expression of his face—indeed his whole manner—changed. His eyes lost their shiftiness—he seemed to forget the presence of the great man standing38 at the other side of the table.
While he was selecting a probe from his case of instruments the Vicomte d'Audierne opened his eyes.
“Ah!” said the doctor, noting this at once. “You got this on the Boulevard?”
“Yes.”
“How did you get here?” He was feeling the wounded man's pulse now.
“Cab.”
“All the way?”
“Of course.”
“Who carried you into this room?” asked the doctor, returning to his case of instruments.
“No one! I walked.” The doctor's manner, quick and nonchalant, evidently aggravated39 his patient.
“Why did you do that?”
He was making his preparations while he spoke, and never looked at the Vicomte.
“In order to avoid attracting attention.”
This brought the doctor's glance to his face, and the result was instantaneous. The young man started, and into his eyes there came again the shifty expression, as he looked from the face of the patient to that of the Provincial standing motionless at the other side of the table. He said nothing, however, and returned with a peculiar40 restraint to his preparations. It is probable that his silence was brought about by the persistent41 gaze of two pairs of deep velvety eyes which never left his face.
“Will Monsieur take chloroform,” he asked, unfolding a clean pocket-handkerchief, and taking from his waistcoat pocket a small phial.
“No!”
“But—I beg of you———”
“It is not necessary,” persisted the Vicomte calmly.
The doctor looked across to the Provincial and made a hopeless little movement of the shoulders, accompanied by an almost imperceptible elevation42 of the eyebrows43.
The Jesuit replied by looking meaningly at the small glass-stoppered bottle.
Then the doctor muttered:
“As you will!”
He had laid his instruments out upon the mattress—the gas was turned up as high as it would go. Everything was ready. Then he turned his back a moment and took off his coat, which he laid upon a chair, returning towards the bed with one hand behind his back.
Quick as thought, he suddenly darted44 forward and pressed the clean handkerchief over the wounded man's mouth and nose. The Vicomte d'Audierne gave a little smothered45 exclamation46 of rage, and raised his arms; but the Jesuit was too quick for him, and pinned him down upon the mattress.
After a moment the doctor removed the handkerchief, and the Vicomte lay unconscious and motionless, his delicate lips drawn47 back in anger, so that the short white teeth gleamed dangerously.
“It is possible,” said the surgeon, feeling his pulse again, “that Monsieur has killed himself by walking into this room.”
Like a cat over its prey48, the young doctor leant across the mattress. Without looking round he took up the instruments he wanted, knowing the order in which they lay. He had been excellently taught. The noiseless movements of his white fingers were marvellously dexterous—neat, rapid, and finished. The evil-looking instruments gleamed and flashed beneath the gaslight. He had a peculiar little habit of wiping each one on his shirt-sleeve before and after use, leaving a series of thin red stripes there.
After the lapse49 of a minute he raised his head, wiped something which he held in his fingers, and passed it across to the Provincial.
“That is the bullet, my father,” he said, without ceasing his occupation, and without raising his eyes from the wounded man.
“If he tries, my father,” was the meaning reply.
“This would be the death of a dog,” said the Provincial, as if musing52 aloud; for the surgeon was busy at his trade, and the tobacconist had withdrawn53 some time before.
“Better than the life of a dog,” replied the Vicomte, in his smoothly mocking way, without opening his eyes.
It was very easy to blame one woman, and to cast reflections upon the entire sex. If these brothers had not quarrelled about that woman, they would have fallen out over something else. Some men are so: they are like a strong spirit—light and yet potent—that floats upon the top of all other liquids and will mingle54 with none.
It would seem that these two could not be in the same room without quarrelling. It was only with care that (as the Jesuit had coldly observed) they could exist in the same world without clashing. Never was the Vicomte d'Audierne so cynical55, so sceptical, as in the presence of his brother. Never was Raoul d'Audierne so cold, so heartless, so Jesuitical, as when meeting his brother's scepticism.
Sixteen years of their life had made no difference. They were as far apart now as on one grey morning sixteen years ago, when the Vicomte d'Audierne had hurried away from the deserted56 shore of the C?te du Nord, leaving his brother lying upon the sand with an ugly slit57 in his neck. That slit had healed now, but the scar was always at his throat, and in both their hearts.
True to his training, the Provincial had not spoken the truth when he said that he had been ordered to Paris. There was only one man in the world who could order him to do anything, and that man was too wise to test his authority. Raoul d'Audierne had come to Paris for the purpose of seeing his brother—senior by an hour. There were many things of which he wished to speak, some belonging to the distant past, some to a more recent date. He wished to speak of Christian Vellacott—one of the few men who had succeeded in outwitting him—of Signor Bruno, or Max Talma, who had died within pistol range of that same Englishman, a sudden, voiceless death, the result of a terrible access of passion at the sight of his face.
But this man was a Jesuit and a d'Audierne, which latter statement is full of import to those who, having studied heredity, know that wonderful inner history of France which is the most romantic story of human kind. And so Raoul d'Audierne—the man whose power in the world is like that of the fires burning within the crust of the earth, unseen, immeasurable—and so he took his hat, and left the little room behind the tobacconist's shop in the Rue St. Gingolphe—beaten, frustrated58.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
intervals
|
|
| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
rue
|
|
| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
expedient
|
|
| adj.有用的，有利的；n.紧急的办法，权宜之计 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
solace
|
|
| n.安慰；v.使快乐；vt.安慰(物)，缓和 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
agitated
|
|
| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
reigns
|
|
| n.君主的统治( reign的名词复数 )；君主统治时期；任期；当政期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
shutters
|
|
| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
clatter
|
|
| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
perusal
|
|
| n.细读，熟读；目测 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
amazement
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
curiously
|
|
| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
mattress
|
|
| n.床垫，床褥 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
laboriously
|
|
| adv.艰苦地；费力地；辛勤地；（文体等）佶屈聱牙地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
dealing
|
|
| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
heeding
|
|
| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
essentially
|
|
| adv.本质上，实质上，基本上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
murmur
|
|
| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
doorway
|
|
| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
weird
|
|
| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
barricade
|
|
| n.路障，栅栏，障碍；vt.设路障挡住 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
flickered
|
|
| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
trickled
|
|
| v.滴( trickle的过去式和过去分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
velvety
|
|
| adj. 像天鹅绒的, 轻软光滑的, 柔软的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
contraction
|
|
| n.缩略词，缩写式，害病 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
noted
|
|
| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
winced
|
|
| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
smoothly
|
|
| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
dolt
|
|
| n.傻瓜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
eyelids
|
|
| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
Christian
|
|
| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
tonsure
|
|
| n.削发；v.剃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
provincial
|
|
| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
aristocrat
|
|
| n.贵族，有贵族气派的人，上层人物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
improvised
|
|
| a.即席而作的,即兴的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
saluted
|
|
| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
deftness
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
aggravated
|
|
| 使恶化( aggravate的过去式和过去分词 )； 使更严重； 激怒； 使恼火 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
persistent
|
|
| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
elevation
|
|
| n.高度；海拔；高地；上升；提高 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
eyebrows
|
|
| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
darted
|
|
| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
smothered
|
|
| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
exclamation
|
|
| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
prey
|
|
| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
lapse
|
|
| n.过失，流逝，失效，抛弃信仰，间隔；vi.堕落，停止，失效，流逝；vt.使失效 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
casually
|
|
| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
skilfully
|
|
| adv. (美skillfully)熟练地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
musing
|
|
| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
withdrawn
|
|
| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
mingle
|
|
| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
cynical
|
|
| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
deserted
|
|
| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
slit
|
|
| n.狭长的切口；裂缝；vt.切开，撕裂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
frustrated
|
|
| adj.挫败的，失意的，泄气的v.使不成功( frustrate的过去式和过去分词 )；挫败；使受挫折；令人沮丧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |